The Girl with the Loaded Gun
by iamhighfunctioningsochiopathed
Summary: Sequel to "The Girl in the Ruby Coat" : What happens when Sherlock and Norah are off to "slay dragons" in the east? Can London thrive without the Consulting Detective residing in 221B? Sherlock x OC, copyright iamhighfuntioningsochiopathed 2014
1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1

Zagreb, Croatia. Southern edge of the city. A joint called "Andrej's" that you can only get into if you know the right people. The interior is surprisingly lavish, compared to its back-alley, back-door entrance. Within the windowless building, there's a sleek, fully stocked bar with granite countertops, candlelit tables and posh leather booths. The lighting is otherwise dim, as is desired by the people who frequent the bar. It is unlikely for anybody to wander in to Andrej's who's shoes do not cost a fortune, who's pockets are not full of monetary means, and who did not obtain such means in some less than legal way.

Albert Gruner had all of the above.

Gruner was somewhat of a nobleman in these parts; his family founded the largest privatized bank in Austria, which he was now the head of. He was a rather large man in his forties, resembling a bodyguard rather than a C.E.O. He had dark shifty eyes and an abnormally tan complexion for a resident of Vienna, due to his frequent tropical travels, (on one of which his wife had mysteriously drowned). He visited this bar whenever he was in Croatia for "business". As in large-scale embezzlement.

He sat by himself, his eyes sore from staring at a computer screen all day, sipping gin and typing on his phone. He was watching twenty million euros add themselves into his bank account when a cocktail waiter presented him with a clear drink containing mint leaves and a lime slice.

"Nisam to odredili." _I did not order this._

"Žena u baru ga kupio za vas." _The woman at the bar ordered it for you._

Gruner turned his head to see a pretty young thing sitting in a barstool adjacent to his booth. All he saw was her back, but the view was no less enticing. She wore a royal blue backless gown that hugged her figure like the night sky, and dark copper waves fell from her scalp like spun sugar.

When she turned around, her green eyes seemed to transfix him as she glided to his booth.

"Guten Abend." _Good evening._

"…Sie sind Deutsch?" _…Are you German?_

"No. English." Her voice was low and buxom, and her dark lipstick smile small and enchanting.

"An English woman who has spent some time in Austria, I see. What gave me away?" he asked, pointing to the Hugo cocktail on his table. Prosecco with a spoonful of edelweiss syrup, mint, and lime.

She took the last swig of her own drink. "The dialect is fairly distinguishable from mainstream German diction."

"…I didn't speak. I sat in silence."

"...Of course. I heard you when you came in and were being seated. Did your date stand you up then?"

His dark eyes narrowed. "…What makes you think I have a date?"

"Don't you?"

"No, as a matter of fact."

Her dark lips curled into an enigmatic smile. "Are you taking applications?"

Mirroring her grin, Albert beckoned the waiter over. "A house special, for the lady," he said. The waiter took a good look at the woman across from him, nodded, and went to the bar.

Gruner adjusted his suit jacket and slicked his greasy black hair back. "What is your name?"

"Does it matter?"

"I like to know who my dates are."

"I know who _you_ are. You're Albert Gruner," the woman said, raising her eyebrows.

"You are quite keen," he chuckled. He liked this mystery woman. She was a breath of fresh air from the bimbos he usually fooled around with. "And how did you figure that one out?"

"Your business card. It's sticking out of your pocket."

"Oh, so it is." He reached down and pushed the card back into his pants pocket when his phone began to ring on the table. He flipped it over and ignored the call from 'Violet'.

"Girlfriend? Don't worry, I don't mind."

"Good. Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Good."

She reached across the table and took his hand off of his mobile, stroking it and examining it. She ran her fingertips along a large platinum ring on his middle depicting a lion's head with a serpent's split tongue protruding from its mouth.

"This is lovely. Unique. Did the girlfriend give this to you?"

"No, my father," he answered, looking at the ring fondly. "The only one of it's kind ever made. A sort of family heirloom."

She slid the ring off of his finger to get a better look at it. "Exquisite."

Right on time, the waiter came back with a red cocktail in a short glass with some ice for the woman.

"What are we toasting to?" She asked charmingly, raising the 'house special'. Gruner raised his glass to meet hers.

"…To not wasting a moment." They touched glasses and he took a sip of the familiar drink from home. He watched as the woman pressed the glass to her lips then stopped.

"I do have to waste one moment actually, sorry," she said, setting the drink down. "You know, this ring would leave an extraordinary mark on somebody's face it you ever, say, beat them senseless?" she quipped casually.

Gruner choked on his cocktail.

"In fact, it looks like the marks found all over the face of Claus Hertzig, your late business partner, doesn't it?"

His eyes widened and his mouth immediately dried, leaving his tongue like a fish flopping around in a desert.

"…How did you-,"

"You said it yourself, only one of its kind. It matches the marks on the victim's face," she said as she took her phone out to show him a picture. "It's been recently cleaned too, hasn't it? Odd, your wedding ring from your late wife hasn't. But you didn't have to get blood and skin out of the nooks and crannies of that one. I'm going to guess that your shoe size is a twelve, maybe twelve and a half, matching footprints found on the victim's clothing where you held him down."

She took back her phone back began calmly composing a text message while Gruner sat there and gawked at her.

"Then there's my drink. The House special. There's clear sediment at the bottom of the glass, you know, you should really tell your bartender to be more careful about dissolving his add-ins. Could be a date rape drug, but I made it pretty clear to you that those wouldn't be necessary by my body language, so I am going to guess arsenic. I drink this, we leave the bar and in fifteen minutes I am dead in your car. Nice try. That leads me to believe that you inferred whom I work for the moment I greeted you, and you felt the need to get rid of me, insinuating that you have criminal intent to hide...other than my murder...which didn't work out so well for you."

"…I-,"

"Claus found out that you were stealing from your clients and funding Jim Moriarty, and when he threatened to tell your father about it, you got rid of him. Makes sense. Then you disposed of his body, not well I might add, and got a little help wiping his computer from your criminal sponsor whom you must have split the profits of Hertzig's life insurance with. Twenty million in your bank account, twenty million in Moriarty's. And the fact that you are now sweating profusely is a big clue. Did I miss anything?" She smiled and put his ring onto her thumb.

Albert blinked, completely flabbergasted. "Who are you?!"

"Someone with a loaded 9 millimeter underneath the table who needs you to get up and walk her out of this building immediately. And don't even think about telling the waiter your safety word, in fact, if you say anything I'll be sure to throw my drink in your face before you can finish a syllable and I don't think you want a mouthful of arsenic."

After a few moments of dumbfounded shock, Albert Gruner smiled. He shook his head at the Delphian woman. "You're not going to throw that drink in my face, nor are you going to shoot me. You need me alive."

"Would you like to test that theory?" she asked, jabbing his knee with the barrel of her gun. "Look, I don't want to make a scene, but I will if I have to. Why don't you just make this easier on the both of us and escort. Me. Out." Another jab in the knee.

Reluctantly, but compliantly, Gruner quickly and silently escorted out his demanding date. Once they were outside and past the security, he threw her against a wall in the alleyway and held her by her wrists. Her gun was in her garter, so she couldn't reach it.

But she didn't appear to be struggling, and Albert didn't notice the car parked next to them.

"Who are you?!" He demanded again, before a dark figure from behind hit him over the head with another gun. Gruner passed out and his gargantuan stature crumpled to the floor.

"Hm. Shame. I thought you two were getting along swimmingly," the husky voice of the figure said.

"Very funny. Take his phone and get him in the car. I'll let Mycroft know."

"Excellent work," he said, dragging Gruner into the back seat of the black car with tinted windows. Courtesy of MI6. He then drew a small syringe from his pocket and injected a tranquilizer into the banker's thigh. "That will keep him under for a few hours. So, what did you tell him?"

She got in the passenger seat of the car. "That I didn't have a boyfriend. Easy."

"You _don't_ have a boyfriend," he responded, getting into the driver's seat.

"I know."

She pulled the end of the thin silver necklace she was wearing out from inside the front of her dress, removed her engagement ring, and slipped it back onto her finger. Her companion smiled sideways at her as he drove off.

Then her phone buzzed.

"Mycroft."

"You have Gruner?"

"We do. He's taking a bit of a rest in the back seat."

"Good. Question him about Brook and we'll come get him."

"We miss you!"

"Hmm."

"Your brother misses you too."

"No I don't!" the man in the passenger seat said.

"Keep him in line," said the man on the phone. "You know how he likes to be a hero."

The Woman chuckled knowingly. "Mhm. Will do."

_Click. _

"So," her companion said after the call had ended. "Are you going to interrogate him, or shall I?

"I was under the impression that we were both going to do it."

"Mm. Probably wise." He grinned at her. "The East Wind comes in gusts of two."

_(***CUE SHERLOCK THEME MUSIC! _Hahaha. Thanks for reading! PLEASE give me some feedback on this one, since I am not sure yet how I am gonna move forward with it. If you haven't read the prequel to this story, "The Girl in the Ruby Coat", go check that out first!)


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

Zagreb, Croatia. The Palace Hotel. Nearly midnight. The poor man standing at the concierge desk stood puzzling as a man and woman carried another man in a suit inside over their shoulders. He stared blankly at the odd couple and their passed out friend.

"Poor bloke," laughed the tall man with curly hair. "Can't hold his liquor. We're just going to go put him to bed." He smiled insincerely and the pair struggled their way up the stairs.

The consierge's jaw was slightly slacked as he watched this transpire in front of him, but he asked no questions.

…

Freezing water was quite the rude awakening for Albert Gruner. He choked and sputtered, shaking the stuff off of himself and opening his blurry eyes. Before him sat the mystery woman from the bar, and a tall man with dark curly hair and a chiseled face. Unsuccessfully, Gruner lunged at the woman but found himself bound to the chair he was seated in. He looked around and realized that he was inside the shower.

"Was ist-"

"We are going to need access to all of Moriarty's accounts and records at your bank," demanded the curly-haired man. "Immediately."

Albert looked grievously at the woman, then at the man, then back at the woman. "I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend."

"I don't." She smiled held up her left hand, her ring glinting in the fluorescent lighting.

Gruner ogled at the engagement ring then looked back to the man. "Have fun with _that _one."

"Oh, I shall. Now, back to Moriarty-,"

"Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How rude of me. Sherlock Holmes." He pointed to the woman. "Norah Sinclair."

"And what makes you think that I am going to help you, Sherlock Holmes and Norah Sinclair?"

Sherlock smirked at the ignorant man, as he looked him over. _Mid forties. Sees too much sun for an Austrian man. Compulsively touches his hair. Fitness concerned. Gin drinker. Cologne picked out by his girlfriend. _

"Norah? Care to give our guest some incentive?"

Norah pushed herself off from the wall she had been leaning on and bent over to grab something from the cabinets under the sink. She removed a coffee mug (complimentary, provided by the hotel,) containing a clear liquid (not provided by the hotel,) and set in onto the counter.

"I have a sort of house special of my own. I call it H2SO4."

Gruner shook his head at the mug.

"I don't know what that is, but if you think I'm going to drink it-"

"Oh, that would be much too cruel. I'm not going to make you drink sulfuric acid." Norah presented a coin she had been holding, dropped it into the acid, then showed the mug to the banker. The liquid began to fizz and the coin dissolved.

Gulping, Gruner shifted his eyes from the mug back to the woman."…What are you going to do with it?"

The cup was handed to Sherlock, who then shot out his hand and took hold of Albert's fingers. Gruner squirmed, but was quite powerless against his kidnapper. He began to shout for help, but his cries were drowned out by the sound of the fan in the bathroom.

"Grant us access to the records and accounts. You will be properly protected for your cooperation."

"No!" Gruner refused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Have it your way then," he said, dipping just Gruner's fingertips into the acid. The noise that came from the banker's throat was a frightful one, and it caused Norah to flinch.

When Sherlock let go of his hand, his fingers came out bleeding and missing their tips. Gruner sweated and shouted and cried, but Sherlock was merciless.

"The accounts. The records."

"Go fuck yourself," he sputtered to his captor, his hand shaking uncontrollably. Sherlock moved to dunk the banker's hand in the acid again, when Gruner gave in.

"ALRIGHT, alright, the password to my computer is feuerreiter475. Everything you need will be on it." The man began panting and clenching his burnt fingers into a fist.

With squinty eyes, Sherlock stared at the man for a moment.

"No it's not."

"What?!"

"That's not your password."

"…How would you-,"

"Too fanciful for you. 'Fire rider.' No, you're password is something more mundane but just as cocky. So what is it?"

Gruner blinked at the curly-haired man.

"Oh, don't make me guess. As much as I'd love to show off, I do actually have a deadline to meet." He lifted the mug of acid once again.

In the corner of the washroom, Norah scrutinized the banker thoroughly. She had spent enough time with him to be able to guess this.

"…Dieplatinumlöwen574," She said, looking at the banker's ring on her thumb. Sherlock turned and smiled crookedly at her.

"That's my girl."

Speechless, soaked, and bleeding, Gruner puzzled at the pair in front of him. "She's psychotic. And you're a maniac."

"Sociopath. High functioning. Thank you."

_Knock knock knock._

"Ah, there's your ride Herr Gruner," said Sherlock, rising to his feet and buttoning his jacket, as Norah went to open the door. "It's been a pleasure, but I'm dying to make love to my illustrious assistant so somebody's come to pick you up."

Two severe-looking men in suits entered swiftly, and injected the banker with the same tranquilizer that Sherlock had administered beforehand. Gruner spent the thirty seconds it took for him to lose consciousness spitting insults and curses in German at the mysterious man and woman that had bested him at the bar. When he was silent and asleep, the men escorted him out silently and were off to some classified facility.

After the M16 agents had relayed the computer password to Mycroft and left with Albert Gruner, Sherlock and Norah were alone in their room. It was 1:27 am.

"You were on a roll this evening," he complimented her.

"The evening isn't over yet," she muttered sensuously, peeling the dress like the night sky off of her self and onto the floor.

…

Zagreb, Croatia. The Palace Hotel. 2:54 am. Sherlock Holmes and Norah Sinclair laid entwined in sex-tangled linens, sacrificing the sleep they should have been taking advantage of to remind themselves that after business, there was a little room for pleasure. And boy, did this whole M16 agent thing make Sherlock hot and bothered for his fiancé.

_Fiancé. _

He liked the sound of the word in his head. He liked the sound of _Norah Holmes._ He liked repeating her future name over and over in his head as she snored slightly by his side.

Of course, they had to survive the rest of the year first.

(Apologies, updating is slower now that uni is back in session. I will try to update as often as I can! Thanks for reading!)


	3. Announcement! :D

So here's the thing

1. I apologize, I've been trying to do a chapter a week and I have been doing no chapters no weeks. School is swamping me and I feel AWFUL about my procrastination on TGWTLG. Please bear with me! I PROMISE I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOU!

2. There WILL be a new chapter some time NEXT week. And if there's not you may throw something at me through your computer screen.

I apologize again for my schedule imposing upon my writing. Happy hiatus!

Love,

iamhighfunctioningsochiopathed


	4. Chapter 3

***Since it took me so long to update, here's a nice long chapter. Hopefully Chapter 4 won't take me as long to write. Enjoy!

Ch. 3

After seeing a slew of patients with mundane problems (and one case of projectile vomiting), John Watson sat in his office with bits of sick on his shoes and a massive headache.

He noticed a newspaper clipping out of the corner of his eye that he had stuck to his filing cabinet with a magnet.

He missed his detective friend in the funny hat. He missed his detective friend in the funny hat's fiancé. His eyes scanned his calendar.

Seven and a half months to go.

He should have been worried; His friends were out doing highly classified, highly _dangerous_ work. God knows where they were now. But he wasn't worried. Because it was Sherlock. And Sherlock always seemed to get himself out of trouble.

Of course, he seemed to get himself _in_ to trouble more often than not.

John's weary eyes shifted to the orange clock on the wall as he popped the cap on the ibuprofen bottle. This day was just too long.

"Hey," Mary chirped after knocking on the door, but letting herself in anyway.

"Hi." His response was lackluster as he tossed two pills into his mouth and guzzled from a water bottle.

His wife's nose crinkled up. "…It smells in here," she said.

John simply pointed to his shoes.

"Ah." She nodded, then made her way over to her husband to kiss him on the forehead. "I'm going to get some groceries then pick our kid up. See you at home."

"Yeah, see ya." He nodded. He couldn't _wait_ to get home so he could sit on the couch with his daughter and watch the tele. He'd watch anything. Anything at all. Here, he was just so…

Bored.

He blinked and sat up as he had this epiphany. He was turning into Sherlock to compensate for his absence.

Bad.

Seven months needed to go by faster.

…

The familiar, faint sound of children's laugher and shouting greeted Mary as she entered the daycare center.

"Hey Linda," she said, smiling at the woman sitting at the front desk. "Here for Ava."

"Okay, just a minute," the woman said as she went into the classroom behind her to fetch Ava Watson.

Mary sat in the little yellow plastic chair across from the frost desk while she waited. She whipped out her phone and checked her emails. Then her work email. She looked up, no Linda. No Ava.

She stifled the mother's instinct nagging inside of her. _"This is taking longer than usual," _it said. She checked her emails again, taking time to re-read old ones.

The sound of the classroom door opening elicited a sigh of relief from Mary. She shoved her mobile back into its pocket in her bag and stood up. But in front of her was only Linda. No Ava.

The mother's instinct voice returned. But she remained calm.

"Something wrong?"

"Mrs. Watson, Ava's not here."

_Stay calm Mary._

"…What do you mean she's not here?"

"We just…er…our computer says that your husband checked her out an hour ago…"

"…Oh…Okay. Erm, Thanks Linda."

"Of course. See you tomorrow," Linda said as Mary exited the office, puzzled.

Something didn't sit well with Mary as she paced back to the car. John should have called her to tell her that he was going to beat her to the daycare center.

_It's fine, he probably closed the surgery early. He didn't look so good earlier._

John and Ava were probably at home on the couch.

…

_"Still, he should have called," _she thought as she got into the car.

But it was fine, he had Ava. She turned the key in the ignition.

He had Ava.

…Right?

Just to be sure, Mary took her mobile back out of her bag and dialed her husband.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey," Mary said, stalling her next question for fear of what the answer would be. "Did you beat me to daycare?"

"…Huh?"

Her heart fluttered. "You picked up Ava right? They told me you came and got her."

"…"

"…John tell me you have Ava."

"Mary, I'm still at work…I've been here this whole time…"

Mary's breath caught.

"Mary," John begged apprehensively. "Where is our daughter?"

Panicking, Mary dropped her mobile and stormed back into the daycare center office.

"Who on earth checked Ava out?" She bellowed as she entered like a tornado, startling Linda.

"Mrs. Watson, what-,"

"My husband is at work. He did not pick up Ava. _Who picked up my daughter?"_ She demanded, raising her voice. "Did _you_ release her?" She pointed ferociously at Linda.

"No, ma'am," Linda stuttered, beginning to sweat visibly. "I was on my break! Let me get my supervisor." She said, scurrying off down the hall.

Mary clutched the rim of the front desk, ready to snap it in half at any moment. Terror was creeping over her like a shadow as she waited for Linda to return.

After a few moments, an older woman that Mary had only seen a few times before ran down the hall with Linda trailing behind her.

"Mrs. Watson-,"

"Where is my daughter?" Mary barked, her nerve slipping.

"…Your husband came in and checked her out."

"I know for a fact that he did not. Did you release my child to a complete stranger?!" Mary shouted with wide eyes.

"We…erm…"

"I'll go look inside the classroom again-," Linda said, but Mary had already sprinted out the front door.

She jumped in the car and sped out of the parking lot. Her panic had turned to horror.

Mary Watson had, at one point in her life, been captured, tortured, and almost killed on several occasions. But _this _was what she had nightmares about at night. She struggled to see straight, let alone breathe as she sped down the road. She didn't even know where she was going. Somebody had her daughter and she was going to find them.

She looked down and saw that she had three missed calls from John. Dodging a semi truck as she looked at her phone, she dialed him back.

"Did you find her?" John begged to know. He sounded out of breath. It was likely that he had just run straight out of the office without closing up.

"No," Mary hollered. She ripped the interior off of the roof of the inside of the van and pulled out a pistol. She always kept it there just in case. This had now become "just in case."

"I'm driving home," said John, the sound of a car starting on the other line.

"What? Why?"

"Maybe they're there, or they left a ransom note or something. I'm going to call Lestrade."

"They? Who's they?"

"I don't know Mary! _Someone_ has Ava!"

"Okay, alright I'll meet you at home," Mary said before hanging up. She prayed that they would find some clue to Ava's whereabouts at home. Seeing that she was crying in her mirror, she floored the gas pedal and sped through the streets of London. She pitied any policeman who _dared _ to try and stop her.

…

After John's car came to a screeching halt in front of their home, he dashed out of the driver's seat and barged through the front door. He began whipping around, scouring the house for intruders or notes or something that would lead him to Ava. Lestrade and his men were already on their way.

Filled with a soldier's adrenaline, John tore through the family room and the kitchen. He threw a glass onto the floor in a rage, knocking the baby monitor off of the counter as his did so.

Her room. Maybe they put something in Ava's room.

John flew up the stairs and into his daughter's bedroom, throwing all of her clothes and toys out of her dresser drawers. He was about to kick over the cradle when he noticed movement within it.

Ava was sound asleep in her bed, pacifier and all.

John rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he stared down at little Ava, panting. He covered his mouth and fought against hot tears.

"John?!" Mary shrieked as she came in the house. He heard her quick assassin's footsteps climb the stairs, before she tore into the room and saw what he saw. She burst into tears and scooped Ava up in her arms.

"How did-,"

"I don't know," John said, voice cracking.

Chills ran down both of their spines in unison, as they questioned the eerie taking and returning of Ava.

Wiping her eyes, Mary handed the still sleeping baby off to her husband and removed her pistol from her back pocket. "Someone could still be in here," she whispered. John nodded, as they quickly and quietly migrated outside.

They were met by a band of police cars and Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

After scouring every nook and cranny of the Watson's home, Scotland Yard found no sign of an intruder, let alone a break in. All of the windows and doors were locked from the inside, just as they had been when the Watsons left the house this morning.

"You're welcome to stay with Molly and I for a few nights," Greg offered as they stood in the driveway. "You know, just in case."

"…None of this makes sense," said John, shaking his head. "How did someone manage to take Ava from daycare unnoticed, then just return her without any sign of entry?"

"A better question is why," said Mary, clutching Ava tightly to herself. She wouldn't be putting her daughter down for a while.

Lestrade sighed, then looked back at the house. "An even better question is, where is Sherlock Holmes when you need him?"


End file.
